


The Fall of the House of Angelus

by SirenAngelEyes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:29:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9899255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirenAngelEyes/pseuds/SirenAngelEyes
Summary: A/U The Kingdom of Angelus had fallen years ago. Everyone knew that; the entire royal family was wiped out in one single night. Two reluctant brother bounty hunters agree to take on a strange case since the money is too good to pass up. What they didn't realize was that it would put them up against an Empire intent to destroy their clients and the capture of one of the bounty hunters for their own purposes.





	1. Chapter 1

The Fall of the House of Angelus

Prologue: The Fall 

 

“Now Princess, we will move on to the topic of Sirens. Sirens are preternatural creatures at best that date back to an ancient race but Sirens can be born of anyone at any time. Only three may exist in the universe at a time.”

“Why only three?”

“Good question and it’s one we don’t know how to answer. Only two are known to us at this moment, the other either hasn’t been born or hasn’t been found just yet.”

“What happens when they are found?”

“They’re kept away from the general population. Sirens are dangerous; they have abilities not of this world. As a Princess of Angelus you needn’t worry. You won’t ever encounter one.”

Princess Claire Amelia of House Novak rolled her pretty blue eyes. At sixteen, she was a true beauty but she had a temper that was rarely curbed. She tapped her fingers on the table top growing frustrated by her tutor’s want to keep her shielded just like her Uncle and Grandfather, the only one that never allowed that…

“DAD!” She grinned brightly as her Father slowly entered the library. The room despite being a library was light and airy with high beautiful stained glass windows that sparkled like jewels in the sun when hit just right. Tall shelves of books lined the walls interspersed by the windows. Sandstone floors were lined with thick rugs and a tall fireplace sat against one wall.

“Your highness.” Her tutor rose to his feet, dipping into a bow as Claire rolled her eyes. The little man was always trying to suck up to her Father.

“Good afternoon.” He offered in his typical gravelly voice. He smiled softly at his daughter. “Daughter,”

“Hello Father.” She grinned at him. “Are you here to rescue me?”

“I believe you’re quite capable of rescuing yourself.” He arched a brow at her, piercing blue eyes catching hers so alike in color. She grinned brightly at his faith in her abilities.

“Your Highness, her Highness and I were just discussing her favorite subject…”

“Sirens again Claire?”

Claire shrugged, “They interest me so what?”

“You’re only intrigued because there isn’t much known about them. They keep your mind stimulated.” He shook his head, messy black hair barely moving with the movement.

She sighed, “Well it beats listening to him rattle on about House Novak’s history in the Kingdom of Angelus.”

“Claire.” Her Father admonished.

“What? It’s true. You were the same way. Uncle Michael tells me all the time what a terrible student you were!”

“Only because your Uncle Gabriel liked to tease us mercilessly. His pranks are going to start a war one day.”

“At least Uncle Gabriel is fun. Uncle Michael has a stick shoved…”

“That’s enough daughter.”

He smiled softly at her assessment of his older brother and future King.

Claire blew out a breath, blonde hair lifting off her forehead with the movement. “Someone shoot me now. I feel it will be less painful than having to sit through another boring history lesson.”

“Metatron,”

“Highness?” The squat little man asked, blinking wide eyes.

“Would you be willing to relocate your lessons to the archery pitch?”

“Archery pitch?” Claire perked up.

“Yes, I find myself with a few moments of free time and rather than allow you to cause trouble while preparations are being made for the feast after the peace negotiations with the Hel Empire, I thought it best for us to work out a bit of the aggression you’ve obviously inherited from your Mother.”

“Not like I ever knew her. She couldn’t do me the favor of waiting till after I was of age to remember her to die.”

“Claire,” Her Father frowned at her bitter tone and words.

“I know; it’s not fitting to speak ill of the dead.”

“Your Mother died bringing you into this world. If not for her, you wouldn’t be here and I wouldn’t be blessed with your company bad attitude and all.”

Claire rolled her eyes; “I’m just saying Dad…she couldn’t have stuck around for us or if not then for me? I know your marriage was a political alliance but I was her daughter and she left me.”

“She didn’t do it willingly Claire. She fought as hard as she could but it was too much and there was nothing that could be done to save her. I know; I was there with her the entire time.”

Claire frowned, looking back at her tutor and then her Father. “Can we continue about Sirens?”

“What little is known of them yes.”

“Awesome, okay Mety take it away!”

“It’s Metatron Princess…and I must insist on.”

“Yeah, yeah I got it. Now tell me about Sirens pronto!”

She resisted the urge to laugh as her tutor reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose clearly frustrated by her inability to act proper. Thankfully, it made her Father grin brightly and look at her with the soft, sweet look he only ever gave her. She grinned back at him. At least she had him if nothing else.

* * *

 “So we know of two Sirens right? Pamela Barnes and Anna Milton?” Claire asked as they slowly made their way through the hallways of the castle. Like the library, the halls were light and airy with beautiful marble statues and paintings of long dead ancestors and great battles they fought and won. Tapestries were interspersed throughout as well.

“That’s correct, sirens are mostly women though one or two male sirens have existed.”

“And they can born of anyone? So I could have a siren child?”

“That is the theory yes Princess.” Metatron praised her quick thinking.

“It is rare for one of royal blood to birth a Siren.” Her Father offered. “But I suppose it wouldn’t be unheard of.”

“Were you disappointed I wasn’t a Siren Dad?”

“Quite the contrary; I was just happy you were healthy and safe and whole.”

“Awww…you’re the best Dad.” She grabbed his hand, noting the callouses and swung their linked hands back and forth as they walked.

“Don’t let your Uncle or your Grandfather see you behaving like this. They all ready believe I should bring you to heel.”

“But you won’t because you love me.” She grinned at him, leaning against his shoulder briefly.

“Of course I won’t.” He indulged her far too much true but she was his. The first person to ever truly belong to just him and no one could take here away from him. He would always be her Father and she would always be his daughter.

“So these male sirens are they looked down upon by their own?”

“I cannot say Princess as so little is known of the siren race. Their capabilities are the most well documented but not how they interact with one another.”

“Right, and their capabilities all differ?”

“Yes, each siren is known to possess something different. For example, Pamela Barnes is capable of something called Phaselock. Her power manifests and allows her to trap her enemy in a different dimension in a bubble that holds them completely immobile so she can kill them.”

“What about Anna?”

“Anna is a bit different.”

“Her ability?”

“It’s something that’s known as Phasescaping. She can break through barriers with her capabilities. It’s why she’s kept in a coma. To avoid that.”

“Metatron, my daughter doesn’t need to know specifics of the Sirens.”

“But I want to know Dad. They’re fascinating.” She batted her eyelashes. “Please, let him continue.”

“Turn away from specifics please.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

They slowly passed through a set of tall glass doors and out into the gardens, following along the path that led through the well manicured hedges and rose bushes, past the large fountain with the beautiful mermaid and down towards the slopping hills of lush green. Angelus really was a beautiful place; so lush and green, so plentiful and full of life much like the Princess herself.

“What about their tattoos?”

“They are strange markings. Sirens are born with them for no apparent reason that can be found. It’s an identifier and one that is unable to be removed.” 

“Why are their tattoos blue?”

“No one knows my Princess. We have yet to understand why they exist let alone glow when a siren uses its power.”

“Are they really all down one side of their body?”

“It starts at the neck and goes all the way to the bottom of their feet on one side. At least that’s what’s been observed.”

“Perhaps you should be talking to my niece about more important matters. Like our history or that of the Hel Empire’s history.” A low, arrogant voice interrupted their lesson as they rounded the corner of the gardens.

“Brother, what are you doing down here?” Castiel asked, pulling up short.

“Trying to locate my wayward little brother and niece. Imagine my shock when I heard you were making your way down to the archery pitch Castiel.” Prince Michael was everything a Prince should be. Tall, handsome, and just but there were other things about his character that couldn’t quite be hidden. His arrogance wasn’t well known but those that knew him were aware of it. Gabriel, technically the oldest of the children, was long disqualified from ruling due to his heritage. Their Mother’s “bastard” son from a relationship that was never “consummated” leaving the role of heir to Angelus throne in the Emperor’s oldest son Michael.

“I had a free moment and thought to teach my daughter…”

“You didn’t think and it shows yet again. Your daughter is a Princess of the ruling family of Angelus. She has no need of these physical lessons you instill in her.” Where Castiel’s voice was gravelly, Michael’s was smooth and even as though each word was measured for its merit before his vocal cords would ever cooperate to release the sound.

“Uncle Michael,” 

“Silence Claire, back inside both of you. It is almost time for the feast and you will both be expected to attend.”

* * *

 “Your child’s fascination with Sirens…it’s dangerous. You must turn her from this path Castiel.”

“I was unaware I gave permission for you to enter my private chambers brother.” Castiel turned carefully, his silken pants and bare feet giving away his comfort in his own chambers despite the fact that he would have to put on the heavier clothes that came with his responsibility to his Kingdom. Castiel’s room was like the light airy rooms of the palace, with sharp clean lines and light blue and warm tans everywhere. A beautiful portrait of Claire, himself, and his late wife Amelia hung above the rarely lit fireplace. It was never truly cold enough to justify lighting it. Perhaps he should consider taking Claire to the Winter Palace to allow her to experience snow for the first time. She would love it so. They could make snow angels and have a snowball fight; it would hone her throwing skills, which wouldn’t be a bad thing for her to know how to do.

“I worry for my niece. You continue to indulge her every whim…it is unhealthy.”

“She is my child brother…not yours…I will raise her as I see fit.” This was a constant bone of contention between the two. Michael believed Claire should be raised as they were and Castiel absolutely refused.

“Our Mother would’ve never…”

“Our Mother is dead, she died years ago and I will not have my child raised in the fashion we were.” 

“Our Father is weak Castiel, our Mother was strong. We were lucky to have her for the length of time we did…”

“Our Mother was cold and cruel. Our Father was kind and gentle. He survived to see his oldest son and his favorite son at complete odds with one another. It’s killing him to know Lucifer is…”

“You know nothing Castiel. You were a babe when Lucifer left…”

“And now I am fully grown and capable of making my own decisions that involve my own child. I will continue to do as I see fit with Claire. I will not question your rule brother when you are King but you will not have authority over my child as long as there is breath in my body.”

Michael took a breath, releasing it slowly, “Your daughter is my heir Castiel. I have none but her. Would you see the throne go to a child whose fascination with bows and Sirens takes precedence over the good of her people?”

“She’s just a child Michael, don’t lay that mantle on her.”

“Regardless of whether you wish it or not, your daughter is the next heir to the throne until I marry and produce one myself. Get dressed Castiel…the feast starts within the next hour.” 

* * *

 

“Claire?”

“Hey Dad?”

“What’s wrong?” Castiel’s concern was palatable. Claire had always been particular of her space, preferring to have as little interaction with people as possible in her private rooms. For her to suddenly allow her Father entrance was a big red flag. Things hadn’t changed much he noted. Her bow was given a place of honor and her favored short sword was standing by her bed. He wouldn’t be surprised if she had a knife tucked under her pillow either. Reds and purples decorated the space, so different from the blues and tans he preferred. Where he liked crisp sharp lines and found comfort in things that appeared cold, his daughter clearly loved jewel tones and homeliness. Fluffy pillows and beautiful tapestries took up the walls; deep purple curtains covered the high doors that led out to a private balcony. The lamps were covered in fabric bathing the rooms in reds and purples. His daughter rested amongst the room like a Queen, the crown jewel amongst the jewels. Yet she appeared pale and pained, his concern immediately shot up.

“I don’t feel so good.”

“Is it…that time?” He was always so awkward but he tried so hard. It made him endearing where as others might’ve found this behavior strange and even offensive, Claire found her Father’s awkwardness to be sweet. She released a small laugh and shook her head.

“No, Dad it’s not. But thank you for your concern. I just…ever since we got back from the gardens I’ve felt weird. Not right. I don’t know.”

“The banquet…”

“I know we have to be there. I just…I don’t feel so hot Dad.”

“You’re hot?”

“No, I mean I don’t feel well.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I don’t understand that reference.”

“It’s okay you never do but at least you try.”

“Right.” He smiled softly at her; awkward in his demeanor now that he was with someone he was comfortable with. With Michael, it was best to be on the defensive, when it was his child, his guard fell easily.

“Do you think I could skip the banquet?”

“I…” He trailed off, cocking his head to one side studying her. She really did look pale and he would feel horrible subjecting her to anything that would make her uncomfortable while ill.

“Yes, we can skip the banquet.” 

“We? But Dad you’ll get in trouble with Grandpa or Uncle Michael.”

“I’ll deal with them. In the meantime, how about I call one of the servants to get us something light to eat and grab a few books from the library on the way back so we have some entertainment.”

“That depends…will you get them to get me the books on Sirens?”

“Haven’t you read those backwards and forwards by now?”

“Yet they never get old.”

He smiled and shook his head, “All right. I will have them retrieved for you.” 

His daughter cheered, “You’re the best Dad ever!”

“Let’s hope you always feel that way.”

* * *

  _Pretenses of Peace having gone by the wayside, the Hel forces resumed their advance towards Angelus, the doom of House Novak has been decided. To make resistance would be futile. With this foremost in my thought, I, to the People of Angelus:_

_“Sons and Daughters of Angelus, I bid you lay down your arms. Raise songs of Prayer instead. Prayer for His Majesty, the King, ever merciful, a man devoted wholly to peace. Pray to for his beloved son Michael, cut down before he was called to the throne. Prayer must also be offered for his highness Prince Castiel and her highness Princess Claire who in their grief at the deaths of their family and their Kingdom’s defeat have chosen to take their own lives. They who at this late hour choose still the sword are cut from the same cloth as those who would betray the ideals of their King, leading Angelus to her ruin.” Angelus’ surrender without terms was soon to follow. –_ Memoirs of Marquis Balthazar Roché IV _Chapter 17 Sphere of Allies_


	2. The Siren and The Sharp Shooter

Chapter 2: The Siren and the Sharpshooter

 

“DEAN BEHIND YOU!”

“DAMMIT SAMMY I GOT IT!”

Dean growled back as his attacker got a bit too close for his brother’s comfort. Within the blink of an eye, his tattoos flashed bright neon blue before he disappeared from sight all together.

“What the hell?”

The man muttered looking around. Sam arched a brow, lining up a shot that was unnecessary as his brother appeared behind the man and snapped his neck within the space of three seconds.

“Man I wish I had that ability.” Sam muttered as his brother cut his eyes at him.

“No, you really don’t. Word got out about what I was and we’d have the entire Hel Empire breathing down our necks.”

“Dude, we’ve kept it to a minimum unless you’ve needed to use it. And even then you don’t phase walk unless you absolutely have no other choice.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dean muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. The tattoos on the left side of his body felt warm to even his touch. He sighed, pulling his bare hand away. He eyed the body and then looked over at his brother who carefully clicked over the safety on the silver revolver he favored before placing it in his holster.

He whistled and a loud yip was heard before Riot barreled around the corner of some high boxes and rusted machinery. The abandoned warehouse had proven a playground of sorts for the brothers to work within. A twisted, morbid playground but hey that was the life they’d chosen to lead and they did the best they could. Dean found himself stretching himself harder than normal phase walking to preserve their edge while his brother went up on the catwalk that ran the length of the large rusted out ruin. The Australian Sheppard sat at Sam’s feet, letting his pink tongue loll out of his mouth. Dean shook his head, he played at hating the dog but really the damn mongrel had saved their bacon on more than one occasion so he really shouldn’t complain too hard…that didn’t stop him however from muttering about the mutt loudly…and in not the best light.

Riot yipped, side eying the older brother before turning an adoring eye to his Master. They would eventually work out a system, the sharpshooter figured, but for now his Siren Brother and his best friend played at hating one another. At least he hoped they were playing…

“So how much is the bounty on this asshole?” Dean shuddered, swaying on his feet for a moment before catching himself.

“You okay dude?”

“Yeah, think I might’ve over extended myself. I’ll be fine.” He shook his head, “Good food and a beer will do me wonders.”

“Right, anyways bounty didn’t specify dead or alive but I don’t think the people that put up his bounty are going to care that much so I think we’re golden.”

“Yeah well, you try to extort a whole village into paying for protection and let’s see where that gets you.” He shook his head, feeling the world spin once again.

“You really overdid it didn’t you?” Sam’s concern was growing by leaps and bounds.

“Yeah I guess I did. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Well we still gotta drag this out, turn him in at the outpost so they know we got the right person and collect the award.”

“This is always the hardest part.” Dean muttered, “Fine, let’s do it before I pass out on my feet.”

“You sure you’re not going to do that anyways?”

“I said I’ll be fine Samantha now you gonna help me or not? And don’t think for a damn minute I’m going to let you drive Baby. You all ready got me to agree to having your damn mutt in the backseat…which by the way is getting torn up by his claws.”

“You always gotta have something to bitch about don’t you?”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

They smirked at one another before Dean shook his head, “Let’s get this over with.”

* * *

 Dean pinched the bridge of his nose as he slammed down on the high barstool at the end of the bar at The Roadhouse.

“How’d it go out there?” Jo, the bar’s owner’s daughter asked. She cocked her head, noting how out of it the older of her favorite pair seemed. Sharp eyes took in his hunched shoulders and the tilt of his head. “You need calories big time.”

“Double bacon cheeseburger and fries wouldn’t go amiss.” Dean muttered even as he watched her move to grab a clear pint glass and fill it from one of the long handles taps at the back of the bar.

“Where’s Sam at?”

“Hopefully getting our damn money from the Imperials.” He muttered as she sat the glass in front of him.

“Hey Ash! Double bacon cheeseburger with double fries pronto!” She yelled before looking back at Dean. “I was unaware the imperials were paying bounty hunters these days.” She twisted the cap off a fresh bottle of vodka and pushed the stainless steel pour into it and set it back in the well with a thunk.

“The beauty of Empire, you can either choose to step in or ignore everyone equally.” He grabbed for the glass and took a greedy gulp, Adam’s apple shifting with the movement. He sighed as the room finally stopped spinning. “Thanks for shutting down a little early Ellen.”

“How do you always know when anyone is coming up behind you Dean?” She asked stepping to the side of him with a broom in her hand. She smiled softly, a motherly edge to it as he shrugged.

“Guess it came along with the thing I never asked for but somehow got cursed with. Great hearing.”

“Like a bat really.”

“Joanna Beth that’s enough.”

“What? Just saying. He’s got bat-like hearing. Sam is the same way.”

“Sam had train his, mine apparently came naturally.” He shrugged as Ellen slowly ran her hand up and down his exposed tattooed arm. Typically he’d never let this much of his body show, the short sleeved shirts always covered by a longer one, collar always up and even a pair of gloves to hide any traces of the tattoos. It was difficult when they went so high up on his neck. The only alternative was to let his hair grow out but he absolutely refused the girly long look Sam favored. Besides that it looked like shit on him and he doubted he’d ever live it down with the crowd they were around on a normal basis.

“Bottoms up Blue.”

“What the hell did I tell you about that shit Jo?” Dean muttered. “I hate that nickname.”

“Cheer up! Once you get food in your belly you won’t be so damn grouchy.” She grinned as he muttered, before grabbing at a crispy fry and taking a bite. He groaned at the salty, greasy taste before happily grabbing his burger with both bare hands. He could barely pick it up, it was so loaded but he managed and with the first bite he felt the dizziness and slight blackness that had been on the edge of his vision since they’d left the warehouse vanish. Calories really did a lot of good when he’d drained himself that much though he’d heard there were other ways to help overcome that little issue. A sunstone for example could be absorbed and increase a siren’s power exponentially but the side effects negated that to him. He’d heard Anna Milton was addicted to the stuff hence the coma they kept her in by feeding it to her constantly since she’d die without the stuff. He’d never been big on heavy drugs as a vice but hey to each his or her own he supposed. Another bite and the dizziness got better. Once he’d finished his meal he almost felt like his old self.

“Once Sam gets back, you two head on upstairs and crash. I’m sure he’s tired too.” Ellen shook her head fondly.

“Just keep that damn fleabag down here with you and I’m good.”

“What did that dog ever do to you?” Jo demanded as she pretended to mop down the bar. She had no desire to actually work in the place but her overprotective Mother wouldn’t let her do what Sam and Dean did. That was a fight that was still ongoing and one Dean wanted to avoid with every fiber of his being.

“Existed? Caused my life to suddenly revolve around a fuzz ball? Take your pick.”

“He’s saved your ass more times than I can count. You should be grateful since he doesn’t even like you.” Jo sassed, whipping at him with the rag in her hand.

He held up his hands and laughed when she couldn’t quite reach him.

“Sam, good to see you.” Ellen smiled as the door pushed open and Riot trotted towards her with his tail wagging. “Hey boy. You keeping them out of trouble?”

“Never,” Sam said with a bright smile.

“Any problems?”

“No, got our money and got back as quick as possible.”

“It’s a good thing you don’t let that one go.” Jo offered pointing at Dean. “He’d get arrested within a moment of coming into contact with those imperials.”

“It’s better for him to stay off radar true.” Sam agreed, pulling out one of the barstools and settling down. “Hey Ash, can I get a salad with light dressing?”

“You gotta ruin my mood by eating rabbit food don’t you?” Dean groaned, pushing his plate towards Sam. “Eat a fry I promise it won’t kill you.”

“Just because you burn more calories than I do…”

“Doesn’t mean I should eat like shit, I know Samantha I’ve heard it before.” Dean rolled his eyes and took another large bite of his burger. He groaned happily at the burst of flavor.

“No one does one of these like you guys do Ellen.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment though I feel I shouldn’t. I know Bobby taught you to not talk with your mouth full.”

“He tried; that lesson went right up over Dean’s head.”

“Bitch,”

“Jerk.”

“Always with the name calling.” Jo groaned, “Don’t you two ever get sick of tugging each other’s pigtails?”

“Hey! Sammy’s the only one with hair long enough for pigtails.”

They heard the loud clatter of the main door being pushed open; the old hardware clinking with rust and old age.

“We’re closed right now.” Ellen called out as the man stepped inside.

“I apologize but I am not here for your bar’s business.” The man’s voice was soft, aristocratic and a bit off-putting. He was a tall, broad man dressed in rich fabrics with a sabre strapped to his black belt. The bejeweled handle stood out. It would easily feed the five other people in the bar for months.

“Then why are you here?” Jo demanded, hands below the bar to what Dean knew was a sawed off shotgun that they kept there for protection.

“I’m looking for someone or rather someones.” He took a step towards the bar and Dean tensed feeling his tattoos heat up as he perceived threat.

“Do you know Bobby Singer?”

“What do you know about Bobby?” Sam asked, hand trailing slowly into his jacket wear a small pistol rested. He clicked the holster to allow the gun to come free.

“Bobby sent me; I work for someone important and he thought you two might be our best option.”

“One, who do you work for? Two why should we trust that you know Bobby and that he sent you? Three, why the hell would we care about either of the first two?” Dean snarked, eyeing the puffed up Lord.

“I work for Marquis Roché and he felt that it was time to move important cargo he’s kept hidden since the downfall of Angelus.”

“Don’t you think it’s dangerous to tell us that without us having agreed to take on your mission?” Sam asked, hand still resting on the small pistol.

“I don’t think I have to worry about you saying no when you hear the reward you’ll receive for services rendered.”

“That’s usually the best way to start negotiations. Money up front; we don’t take any less.”

“Half up front and half when you finish the job. Bobby was very clear that you two wouldn’t run off with the money but we still prefer to be safer in our methods.”

“How much and what does this mission involve?” Dean asked, picking at the remains of the now cold fries on his plate.

“Danger obviously and a lot of it. If you’re caught by the Empire you will die.”

“Then you’d better be prepared to compensate us fairly for the risks to our necks.” Dean snarked.

“What I’m about to say cannot leave this room.” The man eyed Ellen and Jo.

“You can trust them; they’re our family.” Sam offered. “Though for you I sense that doesn’t mean much.”

“200,000 credits that’s what we’re offering for what has to be done. Your expenses will be kept separate and repaid in full on top of that.”

“200,000 credits? Guess being a Marquis has a lot of perks.” Dean whistled. With that kind of money, they could set up their whole little family someplace real nice away from the poverty and crime. They could live like real people. Dean eyed his brother who dipped his head in slight acknowledgement of his opinion.

“The amount reflects the dangers you’ll be facing.”

“You keep saying dangerous but what does a few boxes of cargo have to do with danger?”

“It’s not cargo; it’s people. Two of the most hunted and well known people alive today.”

“Who?”

“Castiel and Claire Novak, the true King and heir of the throne of Angelus.”


	3. Business End of a Shotgun

Chapter 3: Business End of Shotgun

 

 

Dean burst out laughing, his tattoos flashing with the boost in his mood. The puffed up aristocrat took one look at his tattoos and took a step back. “You’re a siren?”

“Boy, I hope they don’t have you on guard duty. It took you long enough to notice that one. Anyone that dense would be shot within a minute of taking watch.” Dean muttered, shaking his head and taking another sip of his beer. He was tense though despite his relative ease with the newcomer.

“I wasn’t anticipating that.” He offered.

“What’s your name?”

“Ezekiel.”

“Well Zeke, since you’re about to be our new boss better listen up. One, yes I’m a siren. Two if you try to turn me in, I’ll just do the same to you and get your precious King and Princess killed in the process. No loyalty amongst mercenaries. We only answer to one and that’s whoever is paying us the highest.”

“The Princess will be pleased to know one of her new guards is a siren. She’s always been fascinated by your kind.”

“What exactly does this job entail?”

“The King wants to restore Angelus to it’s rightful place. Yet he lacks the ability to prove his lineage.”

“So where do we fit into that?” Dean asked, eyeing his brother and the fuzz ball that loved to make his life miserable. So far Riot had sat calmly with his tongue lulling out, seemingly content to allow the discussions. If the fur ball didn’t see a problem, then Dean wasn’t going to make one he figured.

“The King is a great man and his daughter is a wonderful young lady but they lack the ability to properly defend themselves.”

“So they’re like every other spoiled Lord and Lady out there?”

“The Princess is quite skilled with a bow but her Father as any good Father wishes her to not be forced into a situation that requires fighting. His Majesty himself is more than capable with a long blade and a bow.”

“So he just needs us to watch his back and keep his kid from getting killed awesome.” Dean muttered sarcastically.

“His Majesty and her Highness require more than a bodyguard.”

“Otherwise you’d suffice right?”

Zeke glared at Dean who offered a grin in return. “You are correct Sir.”

“Sir? Damn I must’ve found a sore spot.”

“Dean,” Sam muttered.

“What? I’m just saying.”

“As I was saying his Majesty requires proof of his lineage. Not many saw him when Angelus was at her peak and those that did are few and far between. What he needs is a way to prove his lineage to bring the people of Angelus back together to rise up against the Empire.”

“Got any idea where we’re gonna find this proof of lineage Zeke?”

“It’s Ezekiel.”

“Nicknames are kinda my thing. So…Zeke any idea where we’re gonna find this proof of lineage?”

“His Majesty is the only one that has that information and even he is hesitant.”

“So dangers aplenty huh Zeke?”

“Beyond your wildest dreams Siren.”

Dean whistled, “Sounds like one hell of an adventure. I think we’re gonna have to demand more money Sammy.”

“If you’ll give me a list of things you require I’m sure arrangements could be made.” Ezekiel was tense, stiff and poised as though ready for a fight.

“Oh there’s gonna be plenty of things we need starting with Bobby.”

“What does Mister Singer have to do with this?” 

“We want his opinion on whether we should take this on or not.” Sam shrugged and Riot yipped in agreement at his feet.

“Mr. Singer was the head of security at the palace.”

“Yeah and he lost use of his legs because of it.” Dean shook his head. “You let us get in touch with Bobby and if he agrees this is right, we’ll agree to do it.”

“I can get him on the phone.” Jo offered, speaking up for the first time. Ellen nodded her head in silent agreement with the boys.

“If Bobby says it’s okay, then it’s okay.” She murmured. “You boys still stay here tonight.”

“Never intended to go anywhere else.”

“His Majesty requires an answer.”

“And we’ll give him one after we talk to Bobby.”

“His place ain’t that far. We could be there and back by tomorrow evening.” 

“I’m not sure that’s the wisest course of action.”

“You asked for our help, you said Bobby sent you. We just wanna confirm that and then we’ll come on board one hundred percent.”

“Fine, shall I return tomorrow evening for your answer?”

“Yep,” Dean made sure to pop the p just to watch the annoyance wash across the man’s face. He smirked, “Have a good night Zeke.”

* * *

 Pulling up at Singer’s Junkyard was easy for the two boys, who had always considered Bobby more a Father to them than their own. It had been hard on their bounty hunting Father to take two young children on the road with him and that didn’t even begin to mention how he felt about his oldest son being a siren. John had never actively harmed Dean but there had been other ways he had shown his displeasure over the fact that his son was such a rare commodity. Though he wouldn’t sell the boy out of some sort of loyalty to his dead wife, he never treated Dean as anything more than a burden. That had changed when Dean turned nine and John had dropped them off at Bobby’s to stay while he worked a case. Bobby had treated Dean like a normal kid, teaching him to throw a baseball (and a knife) not at the same time; giving the boy rules and expecting him to follow them with punishments and rewards, and taking the time to help Dean figure out what a Siren actually was and how to harness the powers granted to him at birth.

Bobby wasn’t afraid of him like most people including their actual Father. Dean had concluded that was why John barely spoke to him but pushed Sam so hard to become something. Bobby had been the one to encourage Dean to hone his powers and make something good of himself. Something his Momma would be proud of him for. Dean liked to think he did just that and Bobby sure did help by telling Dean he was proud of him a few times in his life.

The old rusted cars were still piled up higher than hell, fortifications he remembered Bobby calling them.

“Damn it even smells the same.” Dean mused as he pulled to stop. The large guard dog on a chain lifted its head and began to bark then noticed it was his two younger friends and ceased.  

A door cracked open on the sagging front porch barely enough to allow the barrel of a long rifle through.

“It’s so familiar I’ve stopped getting offended.” Sam muttered lifting his hand as Riot leapt towards his friend sitting on top of the shell of a truck. The large dog jumped down, chain rattling and began to sniff at Riot who responded with equal sniffs.

“Why you always gotta greet us with the business end of a shotgun?” Dean asked as the door flew open all the way to reveal the seated figure in a trucker’s cap of one Bobby Singer, former head of security of Angelus royalty and still all around badass.

“Best way to tell if you boys are still on your toes.” The safety clicked on the double barrel and Bobby set it in his lap as he pushed back in his wheelchair to allow two boys to enter. Riot ran up a moment later never one to get locked out despite Dean’s loud protests.

“Don’t you think that’s a bit I dunno overkill?” Sam asked as he carefully closed and locked the door.

“Can’t ever be too careful. Just cause I know you idijits doesn’t mean I shouldn’t hold a gun on you every once in a while.”

“It’s like a handshake Singer style.” Dean muttered.

“Exactly.” Bobby took a sip from the flask resting next to his hip. He set it back down and wheeled himself into his musty living room. It never changed. The floor still squeaked on the fifth board, Dean carefully stepped over it as had been his habit since he was tiny. The old dusty books still lined the high bookshelves. The desk was covered in papers and books and a few empty liquor bottles. It still smelled the same, like old books and good liquor. The fire had been lit in the wood-burning fireplace behind Bobby’s desk.

“So what are you boys doing up this way? Last I heard you were on a job.”

“We finished that and were contacted by someone we wanted confirmation on.” Sam offered, plopping down on the worn old sofa. A cloud of dust knocked up around his body causing him to cough for a second. Dean snickered.

“A real puffed up guy named Ezekiel asked us to take on a job. Mentioned your name. Seemed fitting to make a trip to you to find out if this was legit or not.”

“Don’t know an Ezekiel.” Bobby shook his head, trucker’s hat firmly settled on his head.

“Well he knew you and he also shared a tidbit of rather interesting information with us.”

“What’s that?”

“The King and Princess of Angelus are still alive.”

Bobby shifted, “That right?”

“Yeah, what do you know about it.” Dean folded his arms. His tattoos gave a pulsing glow as his agitation spiked.

Bobby eyed them both, “This Ezekiel person tell you that?”

“He did.”

“In front of anyone?”

“Just Ellen and Jo.”

“That was awfully dangerous information to be letting out in front of civilians.”

“So they are alive?” Dean asked, cocking his head to one side. Sam shifted forward on the couch as Riot stood at attention beside him.

“Never said they were. Just said it was awfully funny that he let that kind of information…information that could get you idijits killed or captured by the Hel Empire freely flow like that.”

“You think they were after Dean?” Riot gave a low growl, hackles rising as the tension ratched up in the room.

Bobby sighed, “If I hadn’t just checked this room for bugs I wouldn’t be saying this but…the Prince and his daughter…I suppose now Castiel would be King since his brother is dead…they were alive when the Kingdom fell. I got them out myself…smuggled ‘em to Marquis Roche. He sent them deeper into hiding before announcing their suicides and promptly telling the people of Angelus to surrender. That was the last I heard of either of ‘em.”

“They’d be the most wanted people in the Empire.”

“Which is why it’s strange that he let that little tidbit slip to you two without first checking you both out thoroughly not to mention the Roadhouse and Ellen and Jo.”

“What if he did?”

“What if he didn’t?” Bobby countered the sharpshooter who shifted and laid his big hand on his dog’s head.

“We got no way of knowing.” Dean agreed.

“You boys better be careful…whatever is going on…it’s gonna be like playing with fire. If his Majesty and her highness were determined to see their Kingdom restored…I have trouble believing they would do so carelessly. Castiel for all his awkwardness loves his daughter above all else. I have trouble believing he would put her in danger by carelessly allowing their existence to be broadcasted.”

“By default, Jo and Ellen are in danger if they heard everything right?” Sam murmured, brows furrowed as he tried to work out everything.

“I know Ellen she’d have suspected same as me and gotten Jo and Ash below ground until this blows over. You boys were the ones they’re after for whatever reason. I have trouble believing this. And I certainly don’t know an Ezekiel.”


	4. Chapter 4

“So what do you think we should do Bobby?”

“Let me go through some channels and I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.” The creak of the floorboards echoed as Bobby made his way out of the room, shotgun still firmly settled across his lap.

“You think he still sleeps with a gun under his pillow?” Sam asked, leaning forward to pet Riot who yipped happily at the attention.

“Hell if I know but I wouldn’t doubt it. Bobby is always armed to the teeth.” Dean shrugged. “You want a beer?”

“You just gonna help yourself to Bobby’s kitchen?”

“We practically grew up here doubt he’ll care. Gods know when we were teenagers we ate him out of house and home.”

“Almost ate me into bankruptcy.” Bobby called out and Dean snickered.

“You know Jo was complaining about my bat-like hearing. If I didn’t know better I’d think Sam and I got it from you old man.” The siren called back with a fond shake of his head.

“You came by that naturally; part of your heritage. Sam and I just trained ours.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“Dude you can’t change what you are no matter how much you hope it’ll go away.”

The Siren’s tattoos flared and then settled. “Doesn’t mean I can’t hope it’s all a bad dream.”

He slid to his feet moving past his brother and the fuzzball who immediately followed him. “Damn dog no. You go back to Sam. I ain’t feeding you.”

“He just wants to see what you’re doing.”

“Getting beer not food. Go get outta here you damn mutt!” He chased the dog that shot him a dirty look before returning to Sam’s side.

“You’re a douche.” The sharpshooter muttered.

“You want a beer or not?”

“What are you gonna do? Drink ‘em both?” He countered as the Siren rounded the corner. He eyed his brother coolly before moving to hand him the cold brown bottle.

“Well if you insist.” He reached for the bottle and Sam jerked it back.

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

They smirked at one another before taking a few swallows. “You think Bobby is right about that Zeke character?”

“I think Bobby’s paranoid but his paranoia has saved our asses on more than one occasion.” Dean fiddled with the label on the bottle. “You know they’re probably after me.”

“Dude it’s not like we haven’t dealt with them before.”

“I know but if it comes to it, you get Bobby and Ellen, Jo and Ash to safety. You don’t let them get them. You sacrifice me.”

“Dean, it’s not gonna come to that.”

“We don’t know that but if it does you take care of our family.”

“Dean.” Sam looked at him with a sad puppy look.

“Hey no chick flick moments you hear me?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

* * *

 

“Man I feel like ass.” Dean muttered stumbling down the stairs in a half sleep coma.

Bobby eyed him from his desk. “You’re up awful early. What happened?”

“Can’t I just wake up at a natural time?”

“No, you tend to want to sleep late.”

“You’ve mistaken me for my brother who thinks it’s a brilliant idea to stay up late reading and other nerdy pursuits that shall remain nameless.”

“And you stay up late drinking and partying really what’s the difference?”

“Yeah, yeah. You got coffee?”

“In the pot if you bothered looking you idijit.”

Dean scratched his belly, his stomach showing through the lift of his shirt. The tattoos that ran down the left side of his body flashed as Bobby eyed him coolly. The shotgun still rested across his lap, his ever-present hip flask in hand to fix the coffee Dean handed him without a word. He eyed the older man for a moment before shrugging. “Bottoms up Bobby.”

They both took a few sips of the life giving elixir before Dean spoke again. “So you find anything out?”

“I put in a few calls and I talked to a few people I know. According to the Marquis he didn’t send anyone and he hasn’t seen the King or the Princess in several years.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It ain’t great news. I ran the name by him and he didn’t recognize it. He offered to meet with you two idijits but I declined on your behalf. The Marquis ain’t exactly uh the forgiving type. Bit of an eccentric honestly.”

“Is that the rich people term for crazy?”

“Well it ain’t wrong.” He muttered with a shrug. “His Majesty felt comfortable asking him for help so I took him to him.”

“You said he hasn’t seen them for years though? Maybe Zeke was with them?”

“I doubt it. His Majesty wouldn’t risk his daughter with someone that careless with their lives.” Bobby shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.

“So what do we do?”

“What did he say to you boys about them?”

“He said they were looking for proof of their lineage. I took that to mean some type of document to prove it.”

“There are only two places that would give them something like that. And I doubt they’d risk either.”

“What do you mean? Two places?”

“His Father like his Father before him was apart of a dynasty.”

“Isn’t that normal with Kings?”

“No, it’s actually a bit different. The Hel Empire is ran by a Senate the ruling family answers to them supposedly. But Angelus was different. They came from an ancient dynasty their ancestor ruled everything on the continent. What we now know as the Empires and the Kingdoms that were wiped out by them was once ruled by one man and his children divided his Empire into many.”

“So basically incest explains the rest?” Dean asked sarcastically, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a carton of eggs. “You got any bacon?”

“If it ain’t there, I ain’t got it.”

“All right all ready.” Dean muttered digging around until he found what he was looking for. He tossed the packet on the counter. “How does pancakes sound this morning? I assume that box of Bisquick I left is still up there.”

“I haven’t touched it. You put it up high on purpose as far as I can tell.”

“That’s pretty accurate yes.” Dean opened the high cabinets and dug around until he pulled out the box he was looking for.

“Idijit.” Bobby muttered, holding out his coffee cup in silent demand for more coffee he could spike. Dean rolled his eyes but did as he was silently bid, handing it back without a word.

He ruffled around digging up a large bowl, milk that was a day or two out from being expired, eggs, and a large spoon. He measured out the mixture and began to crack eggs into the bowl.

“So you said there was only two ways to prove that the King is who he says he is?”

“There were artifacts that could prove it. The Dynast King’s tomb could only be opened by his blood line and there may have been something in the palace that could do the same but going to either of those is like walking into a death trap.”

“Why would that be the case?”

“Because the Dynast King’s tomb is surrounded by un-crossable desert waste.” Sam spoke from the doorway as Riot yipped and trotted into the room. He laid a paw on Bobby’s foot, earning a small scratch and a shake of his head from the grumpy old man.

“Of course you know that.” Dean muttered.

Sam shrugged, “Thought it was common knowledge.”

“Apparently not.” The Siren muttered, tattoos flashing unhappily before he poured the mixture onto the hot skillet.

“You making pancakes?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

“Sorry.” Sam lifted his hands before moving to quickly grab a cup of coffee. He groaned around the lip of the cup and eyed the stove. “Bacon too?”

“Figured you would appreciate a heart attack platter since you insisted on eating a sandwich with all that green stuff all over it last night. Damn near lost my appetite at the sight.” Dean grinned viciously.

“I lie in wait while you get to flash pretty blue and run around in an alternate dimension. Guess which one of us is going to burn more calories?”

“With the way you insist on torturing yourself and your mutt by running every morning I’d say that’s not the case.”

“Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

“Can you two idijits stop it and get breakfast on the table? I’m sick of watching the play by play.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean muttered, tattoos flashing as he shifted around, sizzling bacon popping in the pan while the pancakes cooked to golden fluffy perfection. He shifted things around, moving cooked food to big plates until he was able to set it on the table.

“So what are we doing about this job?” Sam asked, halfway through their meal.

“That’s what we were talking about son. I put in some calls and the Marquis offered to meet with you but I declined on your behalf. Best not to let him get a look at Dean.”

“Gee I feel so loved.” Dean grinned around a mouthful of pancakes and syrup.

“Dude gross.” Sam muttered.

“You love it.”

“This can go one of several ways I figure. You idijits stay the hell away until this whatever it is blows over, which is the plan I like the most. Or you idijits do the opposite of what I like and you find his Majesty and her highness and you see what the hell is going on. This is the plan I dislike seeing as it’s likely to end in all four of you being dead.”

“How do you suggest we even find them? You said it Bobby you haven’t heard from them and the Marquis herded them even further underground.” Dean pointed out.

“The Marquis may have had a lead on a person that knows where they are.”

“Who?” Sam asked, half empty mug of coffee halfway to his lips.

“A woman named Hannah. I knew her vaguely when I worked in the palace. She was a bodyguard for his Majesty. I thought she’d died but apparently that’s not the case.”

“So this Hannah might know where they are?”

“She might. It’d be worth looking into.”

“Any clue how we go about finding this chic?”

“That’s the more difficult part. I have a man that might be able to help but he’s particular. Honestly…best thing you can do is show up with a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label.”

Dean whistled, “Man’s got expensive tastes. That shit ain’t cheap.”

“Bobby that’s almost 300 credits.” Sam stuttered.

“You want his help or not?”

“For that kind of money?”

“Then we’re SOL on trying to find Hannah.” Dean muttered.

“How much money we talking if we take on this job?” Sam asked, cocking his head to one side. Riot yipped under the table and no one pretended to notice as Bobby grabbed a piece of bacon and slipped it to the mutt.

“Could be nothing or it could be a palace worth depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not the rumor is true that his Majesty plans to restore the Kingdom of Angelus.”


End file.
